


Driven Men

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 00:15:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15206612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: They were both driven men, driven by an inner compulsion obvious and well known to those closest to them.  Goniff had sticky fingers and a sometimes irresistable urge to 'snaffle' whatever shiny, sparkly or otherwise tempting object that caught his eye, and admittedly some very odd items DID catch his eye.  Craig was focused, driven to succeed at whatever he'd currently put his mind to. Those compulsions had sometimes proved annoying, frequently dangerous during the war, though as to which one had been more dangerous, it wasn't even a question.  Frankly, most of the team would have given the award to Garrison, a hundred to one - hell, a thousand to one!  Now, it was different, different time, different circumstances.  The war was over, but the compulsions, well, not so much.  Will those compulsions now drive them apart?





	Driven Men

**Author's Note:**

> After the war, fairly soon after 'Duration Plus Six Months'

In a way they were both driven men, just with different compulsions. Goniff was a mother hen with strong protective instincts and with sticky fingers. Garrison was a man with equally strong protective instincts, determined to build a secure future for his men, along with an equally strong drive to view every opportunity as a challenge, and every challenge as something he MUST succeed at. Most of the time that had been beneficial for them, for the team. Sometimes it was annoying as hell. But now, they deal with it, together, as a team, as a family. They work at it, hard, with determination. They all remember that one time when they forgot and it went sour. It's worth whatever it takes, including an occasional slap upside the head, to prevent that from happening again. And if Craig and Goniff don't think of it, believe me, the rest of the guys, along with Meghada, are quite willing to provide that hard reminder! They are NOT going through that again!

 

It all started on that fourth job of theirs, when Goniff spotted something his fingers were just aching, just twitching for. He knew he'd promised Craig to try and stop doing this, but by the time he left the elegant establishment, the silver music box was in his pocket. It felt wonderful there, just the right weight, he could almost hear the tinkling music in his mind, and he fairly bounced with glee. Til Craig caught him with it, turned the car around, made him go put it back.

At The Cottage, Garrison totally lost his temper. "We're trying to establish a business, damn it! Are you TRYING to ruin it for everyone??! What the hell is wrong with you, anyway??!"

Whether the yelling was worse than usual, or whether he'd caught Goniff in a more vulnerable frame of mind or what, who knows, but this time he had an impact. One they'd all live to regret. 

For the next week, Craig and Goniff avoided each other, made a point of not being in the same room at the same time, day or night. Perhaps if Meghada had been home, she'd have intervened; well, of course she would have, but she wasn't. The Clan had issued a Gathering-In, and she had the point, so she walked back into a situation firmly in place.

In fact, Garrison wasn't even there; he and Actor had headed out on a road trip, meeting with several potential clients, including various museums and state officials in France and Germany, possibly heading into The Netherlands afterwards before coming back home. Chief, Goniff and Casino were left to hold down the fort when the two left, and when Goniff took the car and headed up to London for a day right after Garrison had headed out, well before Meghada was due back, the other two just shrugged; everyone needed a little alone time, sometimes.

She got back, tired and ready for some peace and quiet, and the difference was apparent, growing more so every day.

"He's lost his appetite; it seems whatever I fix, he just nibbles at it, if that. Since when isn't he hungry?? Chief, he's losing weight, a lot! and he doesn't have any to spare! I don't think he's sleeping either."

Chief looked at her oddly, "you don't THINK?"

She flushed, "most nights, he heads off to Craig's room right away, now that Craig's off with Actor traveling, meeting with that list of potential clients, and that's been three weeks now and more. Even when he stays, well, he keeps his distance, doesn't want to be touched. He's talking about maybe moving into the guest cottage when they get back, no, BEFORE they get back. He says he doesn't want to be here when Craig gets back, will stay there maybe, but won't come back til he's SURE! Though he won't say sure of what!"

"Chief, I'm worried sick, and he won't give me a clue as to what's going on! I'm considering asking AJ to maybe drop by, maybe for dinner, see what he thinks. I KNOW something happened between the two of them, Goniff and Craig, but with me being called away for that Gathering-In, I don't know what, and he's not talking about that EITHER!"

She sat her coffee cup down with a hard frustrated thunk. Chief didn't like the sound of any of that. Yeah, he and Casino had noticed Goniff not being his usual self, but figured if they waited for awhile, he'd get over it; but that blow-up between him and Garrison had been pretty loud, so he at least knew what had happened; he figured Meghada would have heard plenty if she'd been here, so there was no harm in telling her the details now.

"So, we get the job done, no problem, looks good. Warden's really pleased; this guy's important, can give us some good referrals for the business. Goniff's got that little smug look he gets when he's pulled a fast one, ya know? Warden doesn't notice til we get halfway back, then he catches him with it, a silver music box. Turns the car around, we get it back in place, no one the wiser, Casino teasing him, well, me too, some, about those sticky fingers of his. Actor giving one of his speeches on the type of music box, when, who, you know. The Warden, not a word."

"Then, we get back, he explodes. Gives Goniff hell, all about how he's trying to put together a business, shit like that'll ruin it all. Really lays into him. Ends up telling Goniff he's not gonna be going out with us again til he gets it under control, til he can swear it's not gonna happen again. Never saw him that riled up; never saw Goniff take it so hard either. Figured it'd blow over, but that was awhile before Actor and the Warden left for Paris, and, well, wasn't any different then." 

She got home from the housegoods store and he was gone, just a note, "don't worry. I need some time. At the guest cottage, got something I need to work on."

She did a hurried check, and yes, his clothes were gone too, so he wasn't just intending to spend the afternoon. Damn it! She was torn between giving him the space he seemed to need right now, and wanting to go and check on him, make sure he had what he needed for his hopefully short stay. The impulse to go and just hold him close, she knew she needed to control, especially with this mood he'd been in. But the guest cottage was fully stocked, she knew that; she'd taken care of that herself right before she'd left. The pantry had the basics for someone spending a few days, though of course the cold box didn't. There was a tea pot and tea, coffee pot and coffee. She decided she'd wait til the morning to run by with a basket of 'extras'. 

It was probably good she did wait, that way when she knocked and walked in, she caught him sitting at the kitchen table staring glumly at the short row of pill bottles sitting in front of him, accompanied only by a pitcher of water and a glass.

{"Pills? He doesn't take pills! Hard to get him to swallow an aspirin much less anything else!!"}.

He looked up at her, and the sheer desperation and despair in his eyes, in his face, shook her. "'Gaida, I can't do it, not anymore. I've tried, really I 'ave. But they make me feel so bloody SICK! I can't sleep, I can't stand the thought of food, much less the smell! I can't think! I can't stand to 'ave anyone up next to me! I feel like I have ants crawling all over me! I just want to . . . "

She sat down across from him, and as the whole story poured out, she didn't know who she was angrier at, one Craig Garrison, or that bloody doctor up in London. 

"There's a doctor up in London, says 'e can fix all kinds a things that can be wrong with a bloke. Not on the outside, but up 'ere, in 'is mind, you know. Bad 'abits, getting the urge to do things 'e shouldn't, says 'e could even change who you fancy, you know? Not that that's something I need any 'elp with, that I want 'im tampering with. But the sticky fingers? Maybe Craig is right. Aint never seen 'im so mad, 'Gaida. Slammed out a the place, saying I aint going out with the team ever again til I can get that under control, til I can swear it won't 'appen again. 'Ow'm I supposed to do that??! Then, I found that, and thought maybe I could get that fixed, maybe the rest would be alright again." She read that scrap of newspaper, the advertisement he'd torn out, 

(Advertisement from the London Times":  
'Is it time for a change? Are your bad habits preventing you from getting what you want out of life? Are you tired of disappointing your family, your friends? Take Charge! Let us help you overcome those negative urges and tendencies. Our success rate is far greater than any one else offering therapy of this kind. Total discretion guaranteed. Call for an appointment . . . .'

Together, she and AJ started the herb teas that would be needed to flush the residue from his system, though AJ warned, after reading some of the labels, that it would be a highly unpleasant experience for everyone. She'd never heard the mild-mannered doctor curse quite so much, once they got Goniff settled down in bed.

"What the bloody hell was that so-called doctor going to try next? Goniff mentioned electro-shock therapy, though thankfully he backed away from that! Some of those quacks even recommend ice-pick lobotomies! 'Modern Scientific Methods' they call it all! Lucky Goniff just told them about the sticky fingers, not about Craig! They really get motivated when they try to change what THEY think is 'inappropriate orientation'! Hell, even Freud admitted everyone is born with the capacity . . . But no, Freud had it all wrong, according to these geniuses; THEY have all the answers. Well, I don't know that Freud had all the answers either, he had a few odd bees in his bonnet to my way of thinking, but at least he wasn't preaching sticking an ice-pick in someone's brain and stirring it like a cocktail!"

She'd just listened, sickened at the danger Goniff had been in. "The pills?"

"Oh, a lovely little mish-mash! Surprised he could walk and talk at the same time, taking all that for this long! One thing they never mention in their advertisements, the number of their patients who kill themselves while taking their fancy drugs! Or the number who go totally off keel and kill someone else first! Bloody Hell!!" 

He couldn't tolerate her next to him in the bed, but that was alright. There was a sturdy armchair, where she could be close, but not too close. Soon, if AJ was right, soon that would change, and she would be able to offer him the comfort he needed, the comfort she needed just as much to give. In the meantime, they'd a new battle to fight, one she was determined they would win.

Chief and Casino heard about the situation from AJ, and showed up to lend their support. Surprisingly, or maybe not, they were equally good at distracting the slender, now almost fragile man, and the first time Meghada heard Goniff's laugh from that bedroom, tears flooded her eyes in gratitude. 

They stayed at the guest cottage; it just seemed best that way. When Craig and Actor returned, it was to a strangely subdued atmosphere, and the story as told by the two witnessing at least part of it, shocked the two just returning. Meghada came in just as the recounting came to an end.

"Meghada, is he alright?" Craig asked, the anxious look on his face showing just how affected he was.

Her face, well, it could have matched Chief's for impassivity.

"The pills are pretty much out of his system. But 'alright'? I'd say he's a far way from that." The others were seeing the heat build within her, were wondering if they should stay or leave. 

"He's tough, resilient; has made himself get that way. Not too many have the ability to hurt him, even fewer have the ability to break him, just a very, very few. You, me, perhaps the others here . . . And himself, of course. We all have that ability for self destruction. But if he does get broken, truly broken - Remember how you described him once, like looking through several fretwork screens, each of a different pattern. Like my shadowball. Take a good look at it, Craig," and she picks it up off the top of the bookcase and tosses it to him and they gasp; it is so very old, she prizes it so much, if he doesn't catch it . . . But he does, though looking at her like she's crazy.

{"If I hadn't caught it . . ."} picturing the resulting crash and thousands of shards, tiny bits of what had been this thing of wonder. He looks down at it, one carved ivory ball inside another inside another inside another, delicate fretwork, once broken, impossible to mend, understanding what she was telling him.

He swallowed heavily, slowly raised his eyes to hers - "where is he?"

"At the guest cottage. Craig, fix this."

And the other voices echoed her - 

"Yeah, Warden."

"Bring him home, Craig, where he belongs."

"Come on, Warden, you know he can't help himself! Aint like he does it on purpose, ya know!"

He swallows, feeling the tightness in his throat. "I will. I didn't mean it, I was angry, was worried. I never meant . . ." 

And Meghada relented, reached out and slid her arms around him, hugged him tightly, but then stepped back, "I know. Just . . . Go, Craig, fix it. You HAVE to fix this!" And he nodded, and left.

He didn't return, THEY didn't return, not that day or night, and no one really expected it. Not that they didn't worry, didn't wonder, didn't say a few prayers. But they figured this would take time, time and being alone to offer up whatever explanations, reassurances, comfort they could offer each other. For if Goniff had been deeply affected, they knew Garrison well enough, knew his tendency to take on the blame for anything going wrong, and in this case, well, he did have more justification for that than usual - he would have been deeply affected as well.

Meghada was putting breakfast on the table when they walked in, perhaps a little sheepishly, a little shyly.

"'Ei, 'Gaida, is there enough for two more? " and she took stern control of herself to say, calmly and collectedly, "of course, your places are set. It's omelettes this morning; hope that strikes your fancy," trying to keep the tears from her eyes, the quiver from her mouth.

Then, she just couldn't, letting the spatula fall back into the pan with a stifled sob, and he was there, pulling her into his arms, "ei, luv, it's alright now. Craig and I agreed, we were BOTH being idiots. Guess you'll just 'ave to give us BOTH good 'ard kicks, maybe after breakfast?"

And she remembered, ('Amateur Theatricals') and threw her head back and roared with laughter, tears streaming down her face, "aye, laddie, I just might do that, just so you'll both remember!"

And if the others looked at each other in bewilderment at that little interplay, they shrugged and accepted that things were firmly on track for getting back to normal.


End file.
